English Lessons
by Beeezie
Summary: Bill and Fleur's English lessons take an interesting turn.
1. Day 1

Fleur Delacour was not sure that she really _needed_ English lessons. Even if she did, she wasn't sure that the best tutor would have been Harry Potter's handsome Cursebreaker… brother? Foster brother? She wasn't totally clear on what the relationship was there. At any rate, he didn't know French, and as far as she knew, he'd never really taught anyone anything before.

At the same time, he was exceedingly handsome, and he'd made her laugh the first time they'd bumped into each other at Gringotts. So in that way, he was the perfect tutor.

Bill Weasley's office door swung open as soon as she knocked. His red hair was pulled back behind his face, and the blue short sleeve shirt he was wearing accentuated both the muscles in his arms and his lively blue eyes. "Hey," he said, stepping back to let her in. "I'm sorry again about canceling yesterday. I had -"

" - some family stuff," she said with him.

Her smile seemed to reassure him. "Yeah," he said, grinning back. "I really am sorry. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to find another tutor."

His repeated cancellations for last minute "family stuff" did not, in fact, make her want to find a new tutor. Harry Potter had insisted that You-Know-Who was back, and she was inclined to believe him; she'd repeatedly felt like she was being sabotaged in the tournament, Cedric Diggory was dead, and besides, Harry had had no reason to lie.

And if You-Know-Who was back, she suspected that Bill's last minute "family stuff" was probably more heroic than mundane, and if there was one thing that Fleur had always loved more than a handsome face, it was heroics.

"No," she said, sitting down on one of his chairs. "I love my family. It is good that you love yours, too."

Bill's office was big - bigger than she'd have expected for someone who was still in his twenties. From what she'd gathered, he'd been one of their most successful Cursebreakers until he'd abruptly decided to take a desk job earlier that summer, and he commanded a corresponding amount of respect. It seemed like he was planning to stay awhile, too - he'd made vague comments about looking forward to his "first Christmas at home in awhile, at least," and the office was already very identifiably his. The entire color scheme was clearly modeled after Gryffindor colors (which made her roll her eyes a little - the English could be so ridiculous about their Hogwarts houses), the bookshelf was filled with his books and trinkets, and there were a few framed pictures of his family and friends on his desk and on the sidetable next to the couch.

"If I'm going to be stuck at a desk job, I'm going to have somewhere comfortable to read the mountains of reports about shit I wish I could still be doing," he'd said when she'd asked whether he actually used the couch. He had not expanded on why he was 'stuck' at a desk job, and she hadn't asked; she assumed that, like many things, it had to do with his family.

He'd always sat on one of his desk chairs when they had ther lessons, but today, he flopped down onto his dark red couch along the far wall. "Hurt myself yesterday," he said by way of explanation. "It's not serious, it's just been a long day and this is more comfortable."

From the way he was arching his back and rolling his head from one side to the other, she didn't think it was a ploy to get them to move to the couch - though she wouldn't have complained if it was. "Should I come over there too, then?"

"If you like," he said after a moment of hesitation. "Sure."

She smoothed her green skirt down before sitting next to him. "How did you hurt yourself?"

He made a face. "My family's clearing out some old furniture, and the relatives who bought it - centuries ago, mind - decided to hex it so it couldn't be moved by magic. Every time you try, it gets heavier, and it took us a little while to realize what was going on. Petty bastards."

She winced.

"You can ask me about them if you like, you know," he said, arching his back again. "My family, I mean. I noticed that you don't, even though you've said a couple things about Harry."

"I do not want you to think that I am spying on you."

His eyebrows went up a little. "Come again?"

She glanced toward the closed door and lowered her voice. It was soft enough that he had to lean in closer to hear her. "Harry Potter is your - your foster brother, yes?"

He considered that. "Sort of. Sure."

"Then your family must be working against You-Know-Who." When he opened his mouth, she added, "No one told me this. But if you trust him and you are not a coward, then you must be, and I do not want you to think I am spying on you."

Bill studied her for a moment. "So you never ask me about my family because you're afraid I'll think you're just trying to use me for information about them?"

She nodded and braced herself. It was an awkward thing to have said, and she wasn't sure how he'd react.

His smiled looked genuine. "Thanks," he said. "I don't think that, but I suppose if someone was trying to get my guard down, they'd send someone beautiful, wouldn't they?" She felt her face start to get hot, but she was saved from having to come up with a response when he rubbed the back of his neck. "Fuck, I shouldn't have sat at my desk all day."

She considered him for a minute. "Do you want me to - what is the word?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. Give me a little more to work with."

"Ah - touching, to make it feel better when it hurts."

His expression cleared. "Are you offering to massage my neck?"

"Yes! That is the word."

He looked a little taken aback. "I - sure." He turned away from her and pulled his hair over his shoulders. Her heart started to hammer as she edged a little closer, and butterflies exploded in her stomach when she touched his shoulders. "That feels good," he sighed.

"I know."

He laughed. "So _are_ you curious about my family? It's fine if you're not."

She wasn't entirely sure she believed that it would truly be fine if she wasn't - she would not have particularly liked anyone who was actively disinterested in her family - but as it happened, she _was_ very curious.

"Yes," she admitted. "How many siblings do you have?"

"Six," he said. "Five brothers, one sister. I'm the oldest. You probably saw a few of the younger ones at Hogwarts, at least in passing - they're close to Harry - and my brother Percy filled in for his boss once or twice."

"Mr. Crouch?" she asked. "Yes, I remember that. That was a very - very odd thing to happen. Viktor told me about Mr. Crouch attacking him in the forest."

She felt Bill's shoulders tense, just a little. "Viktor Krum? You - saw a lot of him, did you?"

Bill didn't strike her as a particularly jealous person, but she supposed an international Quidditch star was probably enough to make anyone a little jealous at first. She considered clarifying immediately, and then thought the better of it; she was curious to see what Bill was like when he was jealous. "Of course," she said instead. "He was another champion, you know, and we were both - both visitors at your Hogwarts. It was very odd, and difficult to find our way around at first. So we spoke often, especially of home. He missed it."

To her surprise, Bill moved off Krum, though the tension in his shoulders said that he was probably still thinking about the other man. "Did you miss home?"

She considered that. "Sometimes," she said slowly. "I think I like it here more than he did, but you English can be strange sometimes, and I miss my sister."

"You've said that, yeah. Tell me about her."

She focused on the feel of his broad, muscular shoulders beneath her hands for a moment while she gathered her thoughts. "My sister Gabrielle is - we are very close. She is younger than me, and when we were children, we liked to pretend we were - fairies is not quite the right word, but I do not know what is - in the woods behind our house. I used to sneak my wand outside after I started at Beauxbatons so I could make her - not fly. What is the word? When you are just in the sky, but you do not move?"

"Float? Hover?"

"Yes. I would make her float in the sky." Fleur smiled at the memory. Those had been happier, more innocent times. Now, she was just glad that Gabrielle was still safely in France. "Now she wants to be a - a fairy - who rides on a dragon. Is that right?"

"Sure. You can say dragonrider, too. It doesn't really work for most animals, but it does for dragons."

"Dragonrider. Yes. She wants to be a fairy dragonrider. She was very jealous of me for the first task, and she was also angry that I did not try to ride the dragon."

That made him laugh. "That sounds like something my sister might say." He was silent for a minute. Then he said, "You know, my brother Charlie helped bring those dragons in for the first task - he works with them in Romania. If you wanted, I could talk to him about - I dunno, something where she could see them closer up. He works with French researchers sometimes. Not something dangerous," he added quickly. "But - just closer."

That took her aback. "I - that would be very nice, if it is not too much trouble. I think she would like that very much."

"I'll owl him, then." He rolled his shoulders back and forth. "That feels a lot better, thanks. You can stop, if you want."

"I do not mind." She put a little more pressure on his right shoulder, and he let out a contented sigh. After a moment, she said, "I - Viktor and I - we are friends, but that is all."

He didn't respond, but she felt him relax a little, and she was glad she'd said it.

"Thanks for the massage," Bill said on their way out.

She felt her face get a little hot. "Thanks for the English lesson."

His fingers brushed across her bare arm, and she felt a spark pass between them. "You don't need to thank me - you're easy to talk to."

She realized that she was smiling. "When are you free?" she asked.

"Well…" He drew out the word. "Next week - you probably don't want to do it again this week -"

"This week is good," she said quickly.

"Then I'm free tomorrow." He shook his head when she agreed. "You're going to get sick of me soon," he warned as they parted ways. "I'm really not that interesting."

Based on their encounters over the past five weeks, she doubted that she would get sick of him.

The next day, he found her in a nearby cafe during her lunch break. "I'm really sorry," he panted. "But some family stuff came up, so I've got to leave at 5. It freed me up tomorrow, though, if you don't have other plans."

"I can do tomorrow," she said cheerfully. If she'd known, she probably would have put a little less time into her hair and makeup that morning, though the way he was looking at her made her feel like he was still appreciating the effort.

"I'm really sorry," he said again. "Believe me, I'd much rather -"

She rose up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "It is fine, Bill. Stop worrying."

He flushed; by the time he managed to reply, his face was red as his hair. "Thanks. Tomorrow, then."

It occured to her that whatever the circumstances, the constant scheduling and re-scheduling of plans probably would have annoyed her coming from most people. She wasn't sure why it didn't annoy her with him.

To her relief, nothing family-related came up the next day, and she ducked into the bathroom after finishing her day to reapply her makeup and change into a white sundress. When she arrived at Bill's office shortly after 6 and knocked on his open door, his eyebrows shot up. "You look - nice," he managed to get out. "Do you have plans tonight?"

"Yes." His face fell a little, so she added, "I have an English lesson."

He didn't usually lose his capacity to speak, but he was clearly speechless now. After a long pause, he cleared his throat. "So you got dressed up for this?" She shrugged. "I'm - you look nice."

"You said that already, but thank you." She closed the door behind her and joined him on the couch. When she looked at him more closely, she noticed that he had dark circles under his eyes. "Are you - are you okay?"

He nodded. He was still staring at her. "Yeah. Just a little tired - I didn't sleep well."

"Mm." She put her hand on his arm. He jumped a little, but didn't pull it away. "Do you want another - another massage?"

Now his face did light up in a grin. "Nah," he said. "Looking at you is much more relaxing than looking at a wall." Lines like that had never worked on her, but she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks now. Before she could figure out how to respond, he said, "So how was your day?"

He had a habit of saying things like that and then changing the subject before she could respond. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, though it definitely caught her off-guard.

The conversation came to a lull, and she was considering edging closer to him when he cleared his throat. "So - I think it is, but I just want to double check - it's okay if I kiss you, right?"

As soon as she said yes, his mouth was on hers. She brushed her tongue against his and grabbed his shirt to pull him closer. They fell back against the arm of the couch, and he tore his mouth away from hers. "Hold on," he said, reaching over to grab his wand off the table. "If someone walked in on this, I could get -" He waved it in the general direction of the door, and she heard the click of a lock followed by a faint humming noise. Her lips met his again, and his wand clattered back on the table as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Bill," she breathed as his soft lips touched her neck. "Yes, please, _yes."_

"Fuck, I should not be doing this in my office," he said. His hand continued to creep up her leg, and he didn't take his lips away from her neck.

"You started it," she pointed out. "You kissed _me."_

"I was just trying to get up the nerve to ask you out, and then _you_ showed up looking like you were going on a date with the luckiest person in the world. Didn't you _want_ me to kiss you?"

"Well, yes." She nudged him. "Sit up." When he did, she swung one leg over so she could straddle him. "Do you want to stop, then?" she whispered in his ear as she rocked against him.

He shuddered. "Absolutely not." Before she could respond, he kissed her again. When she started to play with the buttons on his shirt, she felt his hand settle on her ass. As soon as the buttons were undone and her lips were on his chest, he said, "You know, I wouldn't mind reciprocating."

The tone of his voice and the way his hands felt on her body made a shiver run up her spine, and she slipped out of the straps of her dress. It fell to her waist, and he immediately reached around to undo the hooks on her bra. "I have been wanting this for _weeks,"_ she said. When he pulled on her hips, she rose to her knees, and he immediately started to swirl his tongue around her nipple.

"So have I," he said before taking it in his mouth.

She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and began to move her hips against the air. After a moment, she felt his fingers on the inside of her thigh. He made a questioning noise. _"Yes,"_ she gasped. He pushed her underwear aside, and she cried out.

He looked up at her. "Of course you're loud." His tone was playful, and she didn't even bother to hold back her giggle. "Fleur, I put a silencing spell on the door, but please try to keep it down - the room isn't soundproof." Then his mouth was on her other breast, and his fingers had started to hit a rhythm. She clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her moan. "Fuck," he said under his breath, moving his fingers in time with her hips. "Fleur -"

It vaguely occurred to her that her attempts to muffle her moans probably weren't very effective, but she didn't think she could have held them back even if she'd tried. The pressure was building inside of her, and it was almost impossible to think of anything else.

She shuddered as the ripples pulsed through her. He caught her as she collapsed and ran his dry hand through her hair while she whimpered against his chest.

His eyes drifted downward when she straightened up, and his breath caught in his throat as she began to kiss his neck. "What do _you_ want?" she asked softly.

When she pulled back to look at him, his eyes were unfocused. "I want to be inside you," he managed to get out. "But that's _definitely_ not something we should be doing here."

She rocked against him, and he buried his face in her neck. "Are you sure?"

"That we shouldn't be having sex in my office?" His tone was dry. "Yes. I'm very sure." She rose up on her knees again, and despite his words, his mouth immediately went back to her breast.

"I will not tell, and I do not think anyone else is here. It is Friday."

She saw him glance toward the door. "Oh, fuck it," he said, reaching down to unbutton his trousers. "There's a condom in the top drawer of my desk," he told her. "Hand it to me?"

She reached over to grab it. "Your _top_ drawer?" she teased as he tore the package open.

He grinned at her. "I told you I've been wanting to do this for weeks. I didn't want to have to go looking for it, just in case." She let her dress and underwear fall to the floor. "This is such a bad idea," he said without any real conviction. His clothing joined hers. "We shouldn't be doing this in my office."

"You could always just put your clothing back on," she pointed out, pushing her silvery blond hair behind her and laying back on the couch.

He tossed the wrapper aside and positioned his body over hers. "Bull _shit_ I can."

He groaned as he slid into her, and she immediately put her hand up to cover his mouth. "Your office isn't soundproof."

She could see the laughter in his eyes as he started to thrust. After a moment, his fingers drifted down to touch her again. She bit down on her lip.

"Bill," she breathed. "Oh - oh, _yes."_ When he buried himself deep inside of her, she muffled her moans in his neck. She heard him grunt as she tightened around him, and she slid her hand around to the back of his head to pull him down for a kiss.

When they broke apart, she felt his voice tickle her ear. "Can I get behind you?"

Her stomach flipped over. _"Yes,"_ she murmured.

She couldn't hold back her whimper when he pulled out of her. "I know," he hissed. "Hurry up. _Fuck,_ Fleur, _please,_ I need to be in you." She rolled over and braced herself on the arm of the chair. She buried her face in the crook of her elbow just in time to muffle her shriek as he entered her again. She felt his grip on her hips tighten every time she moaned into her arm. _"Fuck,"_ he said softly as she pushed herself back against him. "Next time, we need to do this where you can be as loud as you want. I love it." He pushed himself deep into her, and she bit down on her arm to soften her scream.

"Now you are just trying to make me - be loud," she gasped, raising her head a little.

His reached around to touch her again, and she let out a loud moan before she could bury her face in her arm again. "Of course I am."

It was a battle that she was not remotely embarrassed to admit that he easily won.

After another minute, he stopped and pulled out of her again. "I'm getting close," he said when she twisted around in protest. "I want to look at your face while I come. How do you want me?"

"Lay down," she said. He immediately flopped onto the couch, kicking one of the back cushions to the floor to make room for her legs. His eyes rolled back in his head as she sank onto him, and she covered his mouth with her hands just in time to smother his groan.

When she moved her hands to his shoulders, he was smiling again. He stared at her as they moved in time together, and after a moment, she felt his fingers back on her clit. She bit back a whimper, and he muttered _"Fuck"_ under his breath again. Both his thrusts and his fingers were starting to speed up, and he put a hand over her mouth when he felt her starting to tighten around him. When the ripples had started to slow down, he moved his hand to her hips. He kept his eyes fixed on her face, and it only took a few more thrusts to finish him off.

They lay there for a moment. Then he sighed. "I really hate to say this, but can you get off of me so we can put our clothes back on?" She made a disgruntled noise. "Yeah, I know. But this is my office, not my bedroom."

"Maybe next time, we should be in your bedroom, then."

"Oh, next time we should _definitely_ be in my bedroom."

She'd definitely picked the right English tutor.

* * *

A/N: A few things.

1) Bill should not have been having sex in his office, 10/10 do not recommend. If you choose to have sex in your office, be better at being quiet than either of them is, especially since Muggles don't have silencing spells. A white noise machine might help a little. Still, 10/10 do not recommend.

2) Bill's "family stuff" is indeed "Order" stuff. The Black family did hex their furniture, though, because they're assholes.

3) I kind of like writing Bill and Fleur and could probably be convinced to write them more if someone pokes and prods me.

4) Why can't I stop writing smut? Send help plz

5) Marking this complete but will likely just add chapters to it if I write more Bill/Fleur smut, so follow the story if you'd like to get an alert.


	2. Day 21

Fleur Delacour was not sure that she still _needed_ dedicated one-on-one English lessons. Even if she did, she was fairly certain that Bill Weasley would not have been the best tutor; while he never laughed at her, he also spent quite a lot of time teaching her words that she couldn't really use with anyone else, which in many ways defeated the purpose of having English lessons in the first place.

At the same time, he was handsome, and he was attentive, and he was very, very brave. He hadn't talked about the looming war much over the past two months, but she knew that he'd left a job he loved in a safer part of the world to come back to a war. She knew that he'd decided to do so without hesitation on that horrible, confusing night. She knew that it was already taking a toll on him. She knew that there was no toll high enough to make him falter.

And she knew that he always had a smile for her. It wasn't the empty, dazzled sort of smiles she was used to getting from men - when Bill smiled at her or complimented her or teased her, it felt like he was seeing _her._

She wasn't used to people outside of her family seeing her.

So in that way, he was the perfect tutor.

When she got to his office early Friday evening, he was already sitting on his couch rather than behind his desk. To her surprise, he didn't seem to be working on anything; he usually was when she arrived. Instead, he was slumped backward against the deep red cushions and absentmindedly twirling his wand. His hair hung loosely around his shoulders, and his black shirt and jeans accentuated the dark circles under his eyes. When she'd seen him just two days earlier, he hadn't looked so exhausted.

She wondered what had happened to change that.

His face brightened when she knocked on the open door, though, and he met her in the middle of the room. She barely got out a greeting before he'd wrapped his arms around her.

"Are you all right?" she asked, returning the hug. Since they'd started sleeping together three weeks before, he'd usually hugged her when she got to his office for their English lessons, but today it felt more like a lifeline than a welcome.

"I'm fine." He let her go. "I'm just - I'm happy to see you."

She knew that "happy to see you" probably meant "stressed over the war," and he knew that she knew. She tried to avoid asking him about it, though; she was still afraid he'd think she was a spy if she asked him any question, no matter how benign.

When they settled on the couch, he put his arms around her again. "I'm happy to see you," he said again, and this time, she didn't feel like there were any loaded undertones. There was just the two of them.

She put her hands over his and squeezed. When she twisted around to look at his face, she was relieved to see that most of the obvious signs of exhaustion had evaporated into a smile. "I am happy to see you, too," she said, and he leaned down to brush his lips against hers. They parted, and his gaze shifted to the bottom of her skirt. "What?" she asked innocently when he raised his eyebrows.

"Your English may be good, but your acting needs some work," he teased, running his hand up the outside of her leg. "I _told_ you, that was the first _and_ last time we have sex in my office. You're not going to change my mind, no matter how short your skirt is."

She'd been planning to tease him until he either forgot about his ban on office sex or called it quits on the lesson early to head to his bedroom, but sudden good cheer aside, he'd looked miserable enough when she'd walked in that she decided it could wait ten minutes.

"Are you - are you all right?" she asked. "You do not need to tell me anything, I just - I am here if you want to."

He sighed, and she reached up to run her fingers through his hair. "I don't know," he said, tilting his head toward her and closing his eyes. "I'm fine, I guess. It's just - _tiring,_ I guess - to try to figure out where other people's loyalties lie without outing myself or pushing a potential ally away. Headquarters has been shit since Hogwarts started back up, too - now that Harry's gone, people keep sniping at each other about who told Harry what. I'm sick of it - what's done is done, and besides, Harry isn't the world's deepest thinker. He's not going to figure anything out just because of a couple stray sentences here or there."

"I thought he was very - very good in the tournament," she said, feeling slightly defensive. She had been irritated at his being allowed to compete at all, but her sister was the most important person in the world to her, and he'd saved her in the second task. Someone had pointed out later that Gabrielle hadn't actually been in any danger, but Fleur would never forget her panic or that Harry had risked his place in the tournament because he cared more about saving her sister than glory or money. She would always like him for that.

Bill shrugged. "Well, he did have some help with some of that, you know - and besides, I didn't say he wasn't good in a crisis. He's a good kid, and survived a lot because he's got solid reflexes - he just doesn't tend to analyze things." He put a hand over his mouth to cover a yawn. "Dumbledore's given the go-ahead for me to focus on something else, though, so I've got an excuse to make myself scarce about avoid most of the Harry talk for awhile. Don't worry - I should look better next week." He grinned at her. "Do I look that bad? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"

She pulled her hand away from his hair to shove him gently. "Do not be silly. I was just worried, a little."

He shifted his body to face her and kissed her again. "Thanks," he said softly. "But I'm really fine."

That made her feel a little better, and as usual, he'd managed to talk about it without giving her any real information - anyone who knew anything could have guessed that Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter would be involved, since they were the two people who'd loudly told everyone that You-Know-Who was back.

She appreciated that, too.

That had apparently exhausted his ability to have a productive conversation, however; he seemed to be having a hard time stringing sentences together when she asked how his day had been, and his eyes kept drifting back to her skirt. When he lost his train of thought for the third time, she swung both of her legs up to rest on his and started to stroke his chest.

He immediately choked on whatever he'd been about to say.

"What is wrong?"

He rolled his eyes at her, but after a moment, he dropped his arm from the back of the couch to pull her closer. "You know what."

She started to trail her fingers down past his stomach, and his breath caught in his throat. "I do not, so you should explain. This is an English lesson, no?"

He let our a snort of laughter, but he slid his hand over to rest on the inside of her leg. "I'm not sure that driving me up the wall qualifies as an English lesson, Fleur."

She shifted to spread her legs a little further apart. "But I learn so many interesting words when we do this that I would never learn somewhere else. It is very educational."

"Well, when you put it that way…" He got to the top of her thigh and started to stroke her through her thin silk underwear. She buried her face in his shoulder just in time to muffle her moan. "If I'm really helping you learn English, I guess I _should_ make sure I'm not leaving anything out." His lips curled into a smile as she started to squirm. "You're so easy to tease," he said softly. "I'd love to push your skirt up and fuck you on the couch right now."

"You have - fucked me here on the couch before," she pointed out, stumbling a little over the word 'fuck,' which Bill often used in a lot of different ways. "And it would be very easy right now. I could get on top of you and -" She stopped, feeling her face start to get a little red. "I do not know the words."

He pulled her silvery blond hair back so he could brush his lips against her neck. "Slide down onto me. Take me in you. If you want to get really explicit and drive me up the wall, you could say that you want me to slide my big hard cock into your tight wet cunt. Ah - but don't use either of those words outside of, you know, this. They're _really_ not polite."

He seemed to have forgotten how strongly he'd rejected the idea of sex in his office just a few minutes earlier.

"See? Educational." She kissed him. "Although there is no way I will remember all of that."

"I'll start saying it more when I'm fucking you, that might help."

His fingers had started to move faster. "I think that that would help me remember," she agreed, trying to bite back a moan.

"Fuck," he said. "I'm as hard as a rock right now." At the look on her face, he added, "It's just an expression."

"Oh." She started to stroke him through his trousers again. "Yes, you are as hard as a rock right now. Would you like to put your hard cock in me?"

He groaned and got to his feet. "Okay, that's enough English lesson for today." He offered her his hand.

She took it, beaming at him. "But you still have to teach me what to say to drive you - up the wall, no? I do not think I remember it all."

"Sure, yes," he agreed. "But I can teach you in my bed while I fuck your brains out." He led her out the door and locked it behind them. "It's an expression," he added when he turned back around and saw the look on her face.

"English is very strange sometimes." She put her arms around his neck. "I do think you will have to tell me these things many, _many_ times for me to remember."

"I think I can manage that." After a quick glance around the darkened room, his lips were on hers again. She brushed her tongue against his, and they fell back against his office door. After a moment, she felt one of his hands slide under her skirt again.

Then someone cleared his throat. Fleur felt her face flush as Bill spun around. There were certainly _worse_ positions they could have been caught in, but this one wasn't great.

When Bill spoke, though, he sounded irritated rather than defensive or anxious, which calmed her nerves a little.

A very little.

"Fuck," Bill hissed. "Bren, you almost gave me a heart attack! What are you _doing_ here?"

The other man was leaning against the doorway about twenty feet away away. She couldn't make out many of his features in the dim light, though she did see the flash of teeth when he grinned. "Looking for you. You mentioned that you'd been working late a lot, so I thought I'd try my luck when you weren't home." He glanced past Bill at Fleur. "I'm not sure I'd call this working," he said dryly. "But don't worry. It can wait."

Bill sighed. "Can it really?" He sounded resigned. "If it can't -"

"It can," the other man said firmly. _"Yes,_ Bill, really. Have a good… evening." He grinned again before vanishing from the doorway again, and Fleur felt more heat rise to her face.

Bill turned back to her and wrinkled his nose. "Sorry," he said, rubbing his hand across his face. "I - sorry."

She frowned at him. "Who was that?"

"A friend with a shit sense of humor." The irritation had faded from his voice, though; she hadn't recognized the other person, but Bill clearly knew him very well.

She dropped the subject and followed him out of the building. As they made their way down the stairs, he added, in a much softer voice, "He's part of the something else. That's why he was here." When they got to the bottom, he stopped and took her hand again. "Are you ready?"

Fleur nodded. His grip tightened a little, and then she felt the familiar tug at the bottom of her stomach before they landed outside the gate to his cottage. The last rays of the summer sun still lingered in the sky, and the snap of his fingers when they appeared had brought the lanturns on hanging on either side of the front door to life.

The light grey stone walls reminded her of her parents' house, and the shutters on the windows had left her daydreaming about pulling them closed and waiting out a long, angry storm with him. The cottage was situated near the edge of a cliff - she was sure that when storms hit, they truly hit.

The first time she'd come here, leaning over the wall that ran along the edge of the cliff had thrilled her so much that she'd lost track of time. That had surprised him; when she'd asked why, he'd just laughed and said it shouldn't have.

She wondered how he'd react if she asked him to fuck her while she clung to the wall and looked over the edge.

When they got inside, he surprised her by slumping against the wall just inside the entryway; she'd expected him to head immediately for his bedroom. "Sorry," he again.

She wrapped her arms around his stomach. "There is nothing to forgive," she said firmly.

After a moment, she felt his arms close around her, too. "I feel guilty about - about being vague and dodging so many questions, but there's a lot I can't explain." He hesitated. "Honestly, I don't even want to explain the things I probably can."

She rubbed her face against his soft black shirt. Bill's shirts were always impossibly soft, and they always fit him like a glove. "Bill, you should tell me what you want. I will listen, but right now I do not need to know more than you want to tell me."

He pulled back. His gaze swept across her face slowly, his eyes more intense than she'd ever seen them before. "I'll probably have to eventually," he admitted. "If you don't - if you stick around, I mean." The hurt must have shown in her face, because he quickly added, "I don't mean it that way. I just - I don't know that I'm a very safe person to be involved with, and this isn't your fight. When it gets worse, it's just - it's a lot to ask."

"You would not hurt me," she said, trying not to get angry with him for suggesting that she was a coward.

"No," he agreed. "Of course not. But someone else might, because of me."

He was looking more miserable with every word. Her irritation lessened considerably; mostly, she just wanted to hug him again. He seemed to want to look at her face, though, so she resisted the urge. "How are you so sure that _I_ am not the spy?" she asked instead. "Or under the Polyjuice potion, or under the Imperius curse?"

She felt his body stiffen a little. "Because I know you're not," he said tightly. "Don't ask me how - I literally can't tell you. But I know."

"You are sure."

"I'm very sure."

She reached up to trace his jawline with her finger, and he shivered. "So - so you are very, _very_ involved in the fight, then, if you are this sure and this worried so soon."

He licked his lips. After a moment, apprehension plain in his voice, he said, "Yeah. I am."

She rose up on her tiptoes, pressed her body against his, wound her arms around his neck, and kissed him. His hold on her waist was tentative at first, but when her tongue brushed against his, he tightened his grip.

"I've been dreading this conversation," he said when they came up for air. "That wasn't the response I was expecting."

"What you said means that you are brave," she told him. "You are a hero." His face started to get red, and she pulled his head down to kiss him again. "I like that. I like it in a - in a fuck out my brains way."

"Fuck my brains out."

"Yes. That."

He searched her face. "Are you serious?" he asked slowly. "Like - _really_ serious? You get what I'm saying? And you don't have _any_ questions?"

"I am serious," she said. "I understand what you are saying. And I do not have any other questions about that, but would you like to - to - to fuck my wet cunt?" Judging by his groan, she was pretty sure she'd said that right. "I want your hard cock in me" she added.

He yanked off his shirt. He'd started to unbutton his trousers when she pulled hers off and unhooked her bra. "Fuck," he said. His mouth was on hers again, and she wrapped her arms over his shoulders as she deepened the kiss.

They broke away again, and their assorted shoes and most of their remaining clothing ended up in a heap on the floor. When he pulled her toward him again, his hands slid around to grab her ass through the thin fabric, and she whimpered into his chest.

"I think that we should go to your bedroom," she breathed. "Otherwise, we might end up - fucking - right here."

As soon as they'd fallen onto his bed and she'd crawled on top of him, he asked, "You're really don't mind the - you know, what we talked about?"

She made a face. "Bill, I like you very much, but please do not ask me these questions while we are doing this," she said. "I cannot - cannot concentrate."

"Sorry." He pulled her down to kiss her. "I just - you're amazing. Lay on your back?"

She rolled off of him, and he kissed her again before edging down her body to take one of her nipples in his mouth.

She started to squirm, and she felt rather than heard his laughter. "I love how loud you get," he said. He lowered his head again, and she felt his fingernails starting to trail up and down the inside of both of her arms.

A pleasant tingling sensation spread from her arms to her shoulders and started to creep up her neck, and she gasped. _"Bill!"_

"Mm?" he murmured without lifted his head.

"I -" He started to run his tongue in a circle, and she let out a whimper. _"Fuck,"_ she cried. "Bill, _please!"_

"I love it when you say fuck." The tingling had started to crawl down her torso, and she let her head fall back onto the pillow and closed her eyes. "When you're tired of being teased, just push my head down." He shifted to her outer arms, which she would have expected to be less sensitive.

They were not.

She cried out his name again as his fingers continued past her hand. "Not - not hard," she gasped. "I feel very - very sensitive right now."

He stopped on the outside of her thigh, and his lips brushed against hers. "Good sensitive, or bad sensitive?"

"Good, but - but sensitive."

"Tell me if it's too much." She nodded wordlessly, and he moved his head back down to her chest. His touch on her through her underwear was feather light, and she let out a loud moan. Her arms felt so heavy that she wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to move them when she _did_ want to push his head down.

"I like you," she managed to say. "I like you very, very much." He didn't pick his head up, but he increased the pressure he was putting on her with his fingers a little, and she felt her heart starting to speed up. "You can - you can take those off."

She was afraid a moment that she hadn't been intelligible, but then he shifted his body down. She raised her hips up, and he pulled them down and tossed them aside. Now his kisses were concentrated on her stomach, and his fingers were exploring her folds. "You're amazing," he said between kisses. "You're perfect."

She managed to move one arm to push his head down.

"Fuck," he muttered once his face was between her legs. "Fleur -" His tongue flicked over her, and she gasped. "You have a perfect fucking cunt. I can't wait to stick my cock in it."

His touch was still light. "More," she whimpered. "I - harder."

He started to move his fingers and tongue with more urgency, and she let out a shriek. Early on, that might have phased him; now that he knew her reactions better, he kept going. She reached down to put her hands on his head again to guide him as the pressure started to build, and when it reached its apex, she cried out and closed her eyes again. As the ripples started to slow down, she felt the bed move a little as he got off to grab the wrapper off his dresser.

When she finally opened her eyes, he was leaning on one elbow next to her and staring into her face.

"How much did you say you like me?" he teased.

She reached over to run a finger down his chest. "I like you very, very much." He smiled at her, and she reached down to touch him. "You are still very hard."

He sucked in his breath. "I am," he agreed.

"You said you couldn't wait to - to stick your cock in my perfect cunt." She felt like she stumbled over those words a little; if she did, the expression on his face made her doubt he'd even noticed. "You still want to, yes?"

_"Fuck_ yes," he said, rolling her onto her back again. "You know," he said as she guided him into her, "I think fucking you is making _me_ louder."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he started to thrust. "Good," she gasped. "I like it."

He lowered himself onto his elbows and bit down softly on her neck. She moaned, and he pulled up to look at her. "Is that - do you like that?"

"Yes!"

"Should I do it harder?" When she nodded, he went back to her neck. This time, he was less gentle, and he grunted when she cried out and dragged her nails across his back in response. "I'm pretty sure I'll never be as loud as you are, though," he murmured in her ear, and she grinned. "I think that means to keep going?"

"Yes. I - I am sorry about scratching -"

He gave a snort of laughter and switched to the other side of her neck. "Don't be sorry. You can scratch me as much as you want."

His pace was starting to pick up, which usually meant that he was getting close. "Do you want to get behind me?" she asked.

"Fuck yes." He pulled out of her, and she rolled onto her hands and knees. Now it was his fingernails marking her back as he thrust into her. "You have a perfect fucking cunt," he said again as she pushed back to meet him. _"You're_ fucking perfect."

Her heart skipped a beat, and he groaned her name again.

Then he buried himself in her, and they both collapsed. After a few minutes of laying there panting, he rolled onto his side and put a hand up to her cheek. _"Fuck,"_ he said again. "Fleur -"

She beamed at him. To her surprise, a dazed look immediately spread across his face, and he fell backward. She edged closer to him and peered into his face. His eyes were unfocused, and when she rested a hand on his chest, she could feel his heart hammering much harder than it usually was after they'd taken a few minutes to cool down.

After a moment, he shuddered, let out a very different kind of groan, and rubbed his face with his hands.

She watched him for a moment. "Did I do that?" He let his arms fall beside his head and nodded. "I did not mean to," she said, feeling perplexed. "I only meant to do a very little. It just does not usually work on you."

He let out a snort of laughter and pushed a few stray strands of sweaty hair back from his face. "Fleur, it always works on me." He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. "I just usually hide it better."

She stared at him. "Really?" He nodded. "I could not tell."

He opened his eyes again and met hers. "That was the goal." His heart hadn't started to slow down, but his tone was fairly composed. "That's not why I like you, and I didn't want you to wonder if it was."

"I still do not think that," she told him, leaning down to kiss him. "But now that I know that it works, I may try to do it more."

He pushed her hair away and returned the kiss. "Let me guess," he said dryly. "Especially in my office, when I'm trying to help you learn English."

"Why would you think that?" His expression made her laugh. "If you do not want me to, though, I will not."

He shook his head, a smile spreading across his face. "If it amuses you, go ahead. Just - remember that that's not why I like you, okay?" She leaned down to kiss him, and he put his arms around her. She squealed as he pulled her down to lay beside him. "Seriously," he said, kissing her collarbone. "That's _not_ why I like you."

He seemed very intent on the point, and she frowned at him. "Is this like - like the spy for me? Where I am worried that you will think that?"

He considered that. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "I guess it is. I just - I don't want you to ever doubt how I feel about _you,_ not… you know, the veela thing." He waved his hand vaguely.

She rested her head on his chest. "I do not doubt that."

"Good." He sighed and put his arms around her. She snuggled closer to him; she'd discovered that being wrapped in his embrace always made her feel more content and safe. "I hate this war," he said softly. "It's only just started, and I hate it. But I'm glad you're in my life."

She felt a pleasant tingle sweep across her body again. "I am glad that you are in my life, too."

After a long pause, he cleared his throat. "You're - you said that you weren't doing this with anyone else, right?"

"Yes. Only with you."

He swallowed. "Yeah. I - do you want to - I mean -"

Some kinds of awkwardness were the same in every language. "Are you trying to ask me to be your - your _girlfriend?"_ she asked. His face flushed, and before he could backtrack out of sheer embarrassment, she said, "Yes. I like you. I have said this, many times."

He grip on her tightened. "I like you, too," he said. "So, are you up for round two?"

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much to yellow 14, MrsRavensmut, LillyMay77, elleisforlovee, and the guest who reviewed last chapter! This is slightly... not what I have written before (though my Drastorias have gotten pretty smutty too, haha), but the encouragement here and on HPFT!twitter (where I've been livetweeting nonsense and backstory and snippets I love as I write) has really been helping my muse.

At any rate! Thank you so much for reading, reviews/faves are always appreciated, and I've probably got at least one more of these in my system!


	3. Day 32

Fleur Delacour was not entirely sure that what she was doing with Bill Weasley could really even be called "English lessons" at this point. While he was certainly still teaching her new words, she was learning many of them while he had his fingers inside her. She suspected that for something to really be called tutoring, it shouldn't involve regular orgasms.

He _was_ very good at making her come, though - so in that way, he was the perfect tutor.

He was also knee-deep in the war, and the dark circles under his eyes and the way his hugs could sometimes feel a little more desperate than affectionate had just started to really worry her when he'd made a vague comment about Dumbledore assigning him to "something else." He'd been vague about what the "something else" was, but it did seem to have improved his mood significantly. He still often looked strained and anxious, but he didn't look quite so _tired_, which was a vast improvement.

When she met him in his office late Monday afternoon, he kissed her hello and immediately segued into rescheduling their plans.

Again.

"So, about tomorrow - can you do me a favor?"

Fleur had never liked people who were unreliable. In the past couple months, however, she'd discovered that habitual plan changing was a lot more bearable when it was happening for very good reasons - especially when it was coming from a very handsome man with a very talented tongue. "Yes. Of course."

He smiled down at her, and her stomach gave a pleasant lurch. "Would it be too much to ask you to meet me here earlier in the afternoon - maybe around four?"

She resisted the urge to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. "That is fine," she said slowly. "I finish at two tomorrow. But why?"

He glanced past her to ensure his door was fully closed. While the walls weren't soundproof enough to mask loud moans, the goblins had never much liked eavesdroppers, and normal conversations couldn't be easily overheard. "Well, that's the favor part," he said, leading her over to the couch. "I need to take a sick day on Wednesday, and if I leave with you and we're a little showy about it, anybody who's paying attention to what I'm doing will probably be less suspicious." She frowned at him, stray hair forgotten, and he sighed. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm asking, and it's really fine if the answer is no. It gives me cover, but if someone _does_ figure out what I'm about, you could get caught up in it. And… I mean, the gossip is the point, and that'd probably hurt you a lot more than it'd hurt me right now."

"I do not think it would hurt you at all."

"No," he agreed after a moment. "If anything, it'd make people respect me more. Again, Fleur, that's why I'm asking - it's really, really okay if you're not comfortable with it."

She considered him. She had never liked being treated like a trophy, but she didn't think that that was what Bill was doing. She didn't think the way his nose had wrinkled when he'd acknowledged the double standard had even been conscious. "Are you going somewhere?"

He shook his head and glanced down the door again. Despite his own spells and the spells built into every inch of the bank's layout, he lowered his voice even more. "No - he'll probably just meet me at my place."

"Oh." She thought about it. "Is it important?"

He hesitated. "I mean, yeah, but if I can find a different excuse."

"But fucking your veela girlfriend is a better excuse." He shrugged ruefully, and she readjusted her hold on his hand. "Yes. I can do that."

He exhaled. "Are you sure? I know there's nothing in it for you, and-"

She let go of his hand to grip his upper arm. When he realized she was leaning in to kiss him, he lowered his head and wrapped his arms around her. "There is something in it for me," she told him when they broke apart. "There is helping you, and I like to help you."

He held her gaze for a moment and then leaned in to brush his lips against hers again. "I'm really not sure I deserve you."

She ignored both the comment and the hint of mistiness in his eyes. "How - um - showy should I be?"

"Not very - people can put the pieces together without us groping each other in public, and the gossip mill will take care of the rest. Just - hold onto my arm and make me look dazed or something like that. I just want people to assume I'm not in on Wednesday because you're not in Wednesdays."

"And so that instead of working you are fucking my brains out?"

"Pretty much."

"Yes, I can do that."

When she crossed the room to knock on his office door the next day, she got a few curious looks - it was clear that Bill was right about the 'gossip mill.' A dark-haired woman she didn't recognize opened the door when she knocked, and Bill smiled at her from behind his desk. "Sorry," he said. "I'll just be another couple minutes."

"Plans?" the woman asked.

Bill gestured at Fleur and looked back down at the parchment in front of him. "Yes," she said as he scribbled something down. "Ah - we are getting dinner. It has been one month since we began dating."

That was not technically true, but it wasn't something that anyone could check, either.

The woman glanced over at Bill and then back at Fleur. "It's a little early for dinner, isn't it?" Her voice was just a little louder than it needed to be, and Fleur wondered whether that was by chance or design.

"We were thinking of - ah - an early night," Fleur said, acutely aware of Bill's quill scratching away.

The woman let out a loud snort and crossed her arms. "What were you saying about having a cold, Bill?" she asked. "If you're not in tomorrow, I call bullshit on it being the sniffles."

He tossed his quill down, blew on the parchment, and handed it to her. "What else would it be?" he asked innocently.

"Mm-hmm." She rolled her eyes and turned. "Have a good evening," she called back as she left the room.

Bill got to his feet and grabbed his jacket off the couch. "Sorry," he said again, leaning down to brush his lips against Fleur's when he got to the door. "You ready for dinner?"

She beamed at him. She'd recently discovered that he wasn't uncommonly resistant to her attempts at dazzling him, just good at hiding his reaction.

He wasn't trying to hide it now, so she grabbed hold of his arm and steered him into the hallway. Between his coworker's comments and the eyes that followed them out, she was fairly confident that Bill's plan would prove effective.

To her surprise, he led her down the main road when they got outside rather than apparating to his house. "Are we _really_ getting dinner?" she asked.

"We have to sell it, don't we?" he said cheerfully. ""Besides, I feel bad that all we do is get handsy in my office until we go back to my place and take all our clothes off. I do like you with your clothes on, too."

Diagon Alley wasn't as busy as it would be in an hour or so, but it wasn't deserted, either. She stopped, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. She wasn't sure if he realized what she was doing or just really enjoyed kissing her; either way, he brushed his tongue against hers and pulled her closer.

When they broke apart, he was smiling. "So, how'd Gabrielle's dragon trip go?"

Fleur didn't even bother to hold back her laugh. Seeing dragons up close clearly hadn't dampened her sister's enthusiasm for them; Gabrielle's letter gushing over them had been accompanied by one from her father asking her to thank Bill but bemoaning his daughters' resistance to finding safer interests. "She liked it very much," she said. "Thank you. And thank your brother, as well."

Her face felt warm, somehow. Bill's smile didn't quite dazzle her, of course, but it always seemed to make her feel flustered. She was fairly certain that it was silly to get so flustered by someone who spent a good deal of time with his head between her legs, but she couldn't seem to help it. "I'm glad. Charlie said to get in touch if she wants to see them again - he's always happy when there's someone enthusiastic about dragons." Bill rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper. "He actually sent along a list of books, in case you wanted to give her a book on dragons but didn't know where to start looking. We could stop by Flourish and Blotts before dinner, if you'd like."

She studied him. "Would you mind?" she asked after a minute.

"I brought it up, didn't I?"

She was pleasantly surprised that the books his brother had suggested were all relatively age-appropriate for her sister. Unfortunately, that also significantly increased the time she spent deciding what to get - by the time they left the bookstore, the sun had dipped noticeably lower in the sky.

Bill, thankfully, took the delay with good humor.

Even though she knew it was partially intended to cover up his absence tomorrow, Fleur found that she did enjoy going on an actual date with him - there hadn't been much opportunity for proper dates when she'd been in school, and she didn't think that she'd ever been on a date with anyone who was half as engaged with what she had to say as Bill was.

The sun was just starting to set when they got back to his cottage. They lingered outside by the stone wall, enjoying the cool evening breeze. When Fleur started to lean over it, she immediately felt Bill's hands close firmly around her waist. "I am _fine,"_ she said, shifting her gaze from the brilliant oranges and reds in the sky to the waves crashing against the rocks below. "I will not fall."

"I know, because I'm not going to let you. Did you have a good dinner?" When she nodded and leaned over further, he groaned. "Fleur, _please,_ for my sanity, at least put your feet back on the ground."

She twisted around to stick her tongue out at him; the sudden movement made his hold on her tighten. "Did _you_ have a nice dinner?" To her surprise, he hesitated for a moment before saying yes. "It does not sound like you did."

He sighed. "No, I did. I really did. I just - I dunno. I don't like how people look at me when I'm with you."

"You _wanted-"_

"I know I did," he said quickly. "I know. And thank you, because it definitely worked. I just -" He shrugged and looked out over the water. "I didn't like the way people kept staring at me like I'd won the lottery by being with you, because they're thinking it for the wrong reasons." She stared at him, but before she could come up with a response, he added, "Let's go in - it's getting cold."

She wrestled with herself as they went inside and collapsed onto the couch. After they'd been sitting for a minute, though, she said, "Thank you. For - for what you said, about the wrong reasons." He smiled faintly at her, and she added, "I have a strange question."

"What's the question?" He was lightly trailing his fingers across her bare arms, creating a pleasant sort of tingle traveling up to her shoulders and down her back.

"It is - it is related to sex. I do not know if you will want to do it."

"Okay. What's the question?" When she hesitated, he squeezed her arm and bent down to kiss the top of her head. "Fleur, the worst I'm going to do is say no. I'm not going to laugh at you. Just tell me."

She shifted so she could look at his face. "Would you fuck me outside by the wall?"

He frowned at her. "That isn't that strange."

"I mean - I mean against the wall." He still looked puzzled. "I want to look over the edge."

Now his expression cleared. "I - huh." She fidgeted a little, and he tightened his grip on her arm a little. "I'm just processing. I probably should have seen that coming, I just didn't." After a moment, he met her eyes. "Sure," he said. "As long as you let me put - I dunno, kind of spell to catch you in case you go over the edge, because I don't trust you not to. Not something you can see," he added quickly when she opened her mouth. "I get the point, I think. But I'm not doing anything that could kill you."

She still thought that he was being overly cautious, but she nodded anyway. "That is fine, then. I am sorry - I know it is a little strange."

He leaned in to kiss her. "Don't be sorry. It's not that strange, and even if it was…" He shrugged. "You can always tell me strange things. I like learning those things about you."

She smiled at him. "Well, what is one of your - your - I do not know the word. A sex thing that you want to do."

"Fantasy."

"What is one of your fantasies?" Now _he_ looked a little uncomfortable. "I am not going to laugh at you," she said, mimicking him. "I just might say no. It is only fair."

"You're right," he admitted. He thought about it for a minute and then he said, "So - and this is really not - if you're not comfortable, don't feel -" She gestured for him to get to the point, and he made a face. "Oh, fine. Would you - like - strip for me? And dazzle me while you do it?"

"I can do that, yes." Some of the tension went out of his shoulders. "When?"

"Whenever." His cheeks were still a little red. "There's no rush -"

"What about now?"

He stared at her for a moment. _"Now?_ Like, now-now?" When she nodded, he let out a breath. "I - now is good."

He was biting his lower lip, which was a distracting reminder of how much she loved kissing him.

She swung one leg over his waist to straddle him, put her hands on the sides of his face, and kissed him. After a moment of hesitation, he put his arms around her and deepened the kiss. When they finally broke apart, he had a quizzical look on his face.

"What was that for?"

She pressed her lips to his again. "I just needed to kiss you. I am sorry."

"Fleur, you don't ever have to apologize for kissing me."

She left him to handle the lights and retreated to his bedroom to rummage in the drawer she'd claimed when it had become clear that her relationship with Bill was probably going to be more serious than a few one-night stands. Stripping wasn't a thing that she had ever done for anyone else, but there was enough truth to the accusations of narcissism that she'd gotten that she'd certainly done it in her bedroom mirror for herself. She wasn't quite sure of things like how long she should draw it out for - but she strongly suspected he would enjoy it no matter what she did, and she could always fine-tune it in the future.

She re-emerged to find that he'd retrieved one of his kitchen chairs and was already sitting on it in the middle of the living room. As soon as she entered his line of sight, his eyes slowly drifted down her body.

"I love that dress," he said, refocusing on her face.

She smiled at him, and she heard him swallow from halfway across the room. He clearly wasn't interested in hiding his reaction to her dazzling him now, either.

"I know," she said, stopping in front of him. "I was wearing it the first time you fucked me." She trailed her fingers up her leg and pulled the bottom of the dress up her thigh.

"I remember." He reached up to touch her, and she snapped her hand down to stop him.

"You told me you wanted me to strip for you," she whispered in his ear as the dress dropped back down. "I do not need help." He grinned and let his hand fall back down to his side. She hesitated, and then she asked, "I - how _do_ you want me to do it, though? Do you - do you want - control, or teasing, or something else?"

Her words were a little garbled, and she wasn't entirely sure he'd processed what she'd said at all. After a moment, though, he tore his gaze away from her chest and said, "Just tease me - you can stop me from touching you, but being dominated isn't my thing."

She brushed her lips against his and backed away from him. He sucked in his breath when she smiled at him, and he immediately let it back out again when she let one of the straps slip off her shoulder. "You know how easily this dress can slip off of me," she said softly. He leaned forward in the chair, and she shrugged the other strap off her shoulder, too. "That was very helpful, that first time you fucked me."

He moaned and reached toward her. "Come _here."_

She swept over and put her hands on his chest. "No touching," she reminded him, giving him a gentle push back in the chair.

She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward, swaying her hips as she did so. His arms twitched, but he kept them down.

She ran her fingers up her leg again, catching the light cotton fabric as she went. "You have done this, too," she said softly, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Pushed up this dress, so you could stick your fingers in me." As she pulled back, she felt his fingers between her legs, touching her through her underwear.

She braced herself against his shoulders as he slid a finger beneath the fabric. When he pulled it away, her mind was hazy, and getting him inside her was suddenly starting to feel much more urgent. "I said I did not need help," she reminded him when she'd caught her breath.

"I wasn't helping, I was hindering."

She pulled on her dress and let it fall to the ground. "I had meant for this part to last longer," she told him.

He grinned as she put her hands on his shoulders and leaned forward again. "I couldn't help myself," he teased, reaching up to push her bra aside and take her nipple in his mouth. She let out a gasp, and he found the other one with his free hand. When she finally pulled back, her heart was hammering.

She sank to her knees and reached for the button on his trousers. If he was going to drive her up the wall, she would do the same to him. He let out a loud groan when she took him in her mouth.

"I couldn't help myself," she told him once she'd straightened up. He grinned back as she got to her feet and circled around to the back of the chair. When she leaned over his shoulder, she found that his hand had replaced her mouth. "I love having you in my mouth," she whispered, watching his hand slowly move up and down. "Take off your shirt."

He immediately yanked it off and tossed it aside. She trailed her fingers down his chest, enjoying his shudder as she leaned down to kiss his neck. _"Fuck,"_ he gasped as her hands moved across his stomach and to the bulge between his legs. She tapped his wrist and reached inside his boxers to stroke him. "Fleur -"

"Do you want to slide this big hard cock into me?" she whispered, keeping her voice soft. When he nodded, she pulled her hand away. "You should not be wearing those, then."

By the time she'd moved back around to stand in front of him, he'd kicked both his trousers and boxers to the side. She knelt in front of him again. As he gasped her name, she reached back to unhook her bra; he didn't seem to realize what she was doing until it fell away.

_"Fuck,"_ he said again as she bobbed her head back down. "I can't wait to bury my cock in your tight wet cunt."

She looked up. "Do you want to feel how wet I am?" she asked.

He pulled her up and brought his mouth back to her chest. Through the pleasure, she felt him pull her underwear to the side. He let out a low groan when she started to rub against him, and when she shifted to let the tip slip inside her, he tore his mouth away to gasp her name again. When he tried to push himself further in, though she pulled away and fell to her knees again.

He let out another shaky breath. "Please," he groaned. _"Please,_ Fleur, I need your fucking cunt."

She continued to swirl her tongue around him without looking back up. "So you don't want my mouth, then?"

"I didn't say that," he gasped. His hips were thrusting up and down in time with her tongue.

He hadn't said it, but she knew he meant it. "I think I am done teasing you," she said softly, getting to her feet and sliding her underwear down at last. He immediately reached out to touch her, and she closed her eyes when his fingers slipped inside her. "Do you want to go to the bedroom?"

"Fuck, _yes."_

By the time they crawled into his bed, his body was quivering. "Let me get behind you," he said. "I know it's not very romantic, but right now, I really want to fuck you as hard as I can. Is that okay?" She nodded, and he grabbed the wrapper next to him and tore it open with shaking fingers. Then he was in her, fingers clenching her hips as he thrust in and out. When she cried out, he stopped and said, "Am I hurting -"

"No! Keep going!"

He picked up his pace again. "Fuck," he said. _"Fuck,_ Fleur, I love your fucking cunt. I love how fucking wet you get for me." His nails dug into her skin, and she felt herself tighten around him as he plunged in again. _"Fuck,"_ he said again as she cried out. "God, I love taking you like this."

He dragged his fingers across her back, and she pushed against him. "Bill," she moaned, reaching back with one hand to pull him toward her. She knew she hadn't actually had an effect on how quickly he was going, but he clearly liked her urgency, because he started to thrust faster. She whimpered as he filled her up again. "Yes," she managed to say. "I - I love your hard cock."

"Fuck," he said, finally slowing down. She looked over her shoulder. "I'm getting close, and I'm not ready to be done fucking you yet."

"So you liked my - my stripping, then?"

He started to push in and out of her very slowly. "Fuck yes," he said. "You're absolutely fucking perfect." She felt her face flush, and he let out another groan as she tightened around him.

"I love you filling me up," she gasped, trying to push back to meet him.

She felt him shudder again, and then his pace started to pick up. "Oh, fuck it," he panted. "I'm sure I'll be up for fucking you again before we go to sleep." He thrust in a few more times and then stayed there, groaning. "Fuck," he said when he'd finished, pulling out of her and falling onto his back. _"Fuck,_ Fleur."

It was the roughest he'd been with her so far. She was surprised at how much she'd enjoyed it.

"Did I - did I make your fantasy come true?" she teased.

"Fucking _Merlin,_ you did." He tossed the condom aside and put his arms around her. "I'm - I'm sorry I didn't make you come."

She pressed her lips against his chest. "It is fun even if I do not," she said. "You have not always." Before he could reply, she rolled onto her stomach and rested her head on her arms. She was still catching her breath.

He hissed and trailed his fingers across her back. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't realize I was scratching you so hard. You could've said something."

"I could have," she agreed, closing her eyes to enjoy the feel of his fingers against her skin. "But I did not want to. It is - I liked making you lose control like that. I will have to strip for you more often, now that I know you like it so much."

When he didn't respond, she opened her eyes. He was studying her, his expression suddenly very serious. "Are you staying tonight?" he asked

"If you do not mind, I would like to. And it would make sense, I think, for your story. Why?"

He pressed his lips together. "I was wondering," he said slowly. "Since you're staying tonight - it's fine if you don't want to - really - but would you…" He cleared his throat. "Would you be interested in meeting the 'something else' I've been doing tomorrow?"

"I thought I was the only one you have been doing." His eyebrows flew up, and he stared at her for a moment without saying anything. She felt her face start to get hot. "Did I say that wrong?"

His face broke into a smile. "No, you said that right. You just surprised me." He leaned in to kiss her. As soon as their lips met, he brushed his tongue against hers and deepened the kiss. When he finally pulled away, he was still smiling. "You always manage to surprise me."

"I have learned many interesting phrases and meanings from you. Many of them I cannot repeat to other people, but you seem to appreciate them."

Now her face was flushed for a different reason. "I do," he said. "I really do. So - would you be, though?"

She considered that. "Why?" she asked after a moment.

"Well - Bren kind of suggested it, last time I saw him. If you wanted to, I mean. He - well, he knows how much I like you."

She considered Bill. "He is the man who interrupted us that time, yes?" He nodded. "He is a friend of yours?"

"A good friend, yeah. He's a dick, but he's a good friend." She frowned at him. "Um - I'm actually not sure how to define dick here. I'm not really being serious - we just like to give each other a hard time."

"Then yes. I would like it, if you would like me to." When he nodded, she added, "How much do you like me, if he knows it?"

Bill's face flushed. "You know I like you a lot," he said after a moment. "I tell you that you're perfect all the time. I'm not really being subtle about it."

She considered pressing him further, but she was fairly certainly that she knew where this conversation would go if she did, and it wasn't a moment she wanted overshadowed by her getting more involved in his war. Instead, she reached out to twine her fingers with his. "I like you a lot, too," she said. She could see some of the tension drain out of his shoulders, and she smiled at him. "And I would like that very much."

* * *

A/N: Thank you so much to Crim777, yellow 14, elleisforlovee, talikai2000, LillyMay77, and MrsRavensmut for their reviews on the last chapter! Hopefully, this chapter doesn't disappoint.

Thank you so much for reading, reviews/faves are always appreciated.


	4. Day 42

Fleur Delacour was quite certain that what she was doing with Bill Weasley could only be called "English lessons" if the lesson was on how to fuck an Englishman. She was still _enjoying_ the occasional "English lesson" they had in his office, but that was more because she enjoyed teasing him than because she was actually learning anything useful.

He'd been busy with things he wouldn't explain all week, and when she'd asked him at lunch whether they could have an English lesson after they'd finished work for the day, he'd managed - just barely - to avoid rolling his eyes. "A short one," he'd said after a long pause. "If you _really_ want."

"I do," she'd said cheerfully, resting her elbows on the table and leaning toward him.

His eyes darted down for a moment. "Sure," he said when he'd dragged his eyes up from her chest. As soon as she got to his office that afternoon, though, he said, "Fleur, are you _sure_ you don't just want to go back to my place?"

She closed the door behind her. "I am sure."

"There's nothing I'm going to say here that I can't say there, and there's a lot that I can say there that I really shouldn't say here."

"I know."

He studied her for a moment, eyes lingering on the hem of her skirt. "That's not what you were wearing earlier." She shrugged. "You're not here for an English lesson." His tone was exasperated, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his underlying amusement. "You just want to drive me up the wall."

"Yes."

He pointed his wand at the door and collapsed onto the couch. "Come on," he said, holding out his arms. "We're not fucking in my office again, though."

"If you say so," she teased, crawling into his lap and straddling him. He put his hands on her waist and started to guide her as she rocked against him. "But I do not think that you can help yourself, and I can feel that you do not want to."

His grip on her tightened a little. "Of course I don't _want_ to. It's been five days. That's why I wanted to go back to my place rather than do this."

She brushed her lips across his neck. "I didn't see anyone here when I came in," she whispered. His heart was pounding beneath her hands. "We do not even need to undress, if you are worried. We could - fuck - just like this."

His hips were starting to move with hers. "Fuck, Fleur," he groaned. "This isn't nice. I mean, I love it, but it isn't nice." She smiled at him and slid out of his embrace to kneel on the floor. "We shouldn't," he said as he reached down to unbutton his trousers.

She chose not to point out that if he didn't want to fuck her in his office, the last thing he should be doing was pulling his cock out. "We should not," she agreed instead, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it behind her. His hand twitched as she leaned back in. "Do you want me to stop?"

He fell backward. "No," he admitted. "But if we keep going, I want to bend you over my desk." She wrapped one hand around him and slid the other under his balls to cup them. "This is why I fucking love you," he gasped when she started to bob her head up and down. She whimpered - she still hadn't quite gotten used to him saying those words in that order - and his hips jerked upward. "I love the way you suck my cock." She pushed her head down a little further. He let out a groan, and she felt his fingernails digging into her shoulder. _"Fuck,"_ he gasped. "Fleur, seriously, _can_ I bend you over my desk?"

She'd always found Bill attractive - that sentiment had definitely informed her decision to ask him for help learning English in the first place, and closer contact had only intensified it. The butterflies she'd gotten in her stomach the first time he smiled at her had never really gone away, and the short sleeves he'd usually worn in the summer had done a very good job of showing off his muscles. She'd thought about sex with him in just about every corner of his office before they'd actually started having it.

Her imagination had particularly liked his desk.

As soon as she'd braced herself against it, she felt his hands sliding up her thighs. She reached down to guide him in, and he clapped a hand over her mouth just as she moaned.

"Keep it down," he hissed. She buried her face in the crook of her elbow, and when he thrust in again, she let out a muffled shriek. "Fuck," he gasped. "I'm not going to be able to sit here without thinking about this for _weeks._ Do you have any idea how many times a day I think about fucking you as it is?" She cried out again, and she felt his arm snake around to start touching her. "Fuck, I want to lock us up in my house for a week and spend the entire time fucking you senseless."

She could feel her toes starting to curl. _"Yes,"_ she said, picking her head up for a minute. "Please, Bill, _please!"_

He increased the pressure of his fingers. "Is this good?" he asked softly.

She nodded vehemently, and she heard the smile in his voice. _"Do_ you know how many times I've thought about bending you over my desk like this?"

"Tell me," she managed to gasp.

"You know that green skirt you have?" His voice was soft. "That time you showed up here in _that_ and gave me a shoulder massage drove me out of my fucking mind. I spent all night wishing I could have run my hands underneath it and touched you until you begged me to fuck you against my desk." He shuddered as she tightened about him. _"Fuck._ Is it really such a bad thing if I get fired?" She let out a snort of laughter and closed her eyes - his fingers were starting to move faster, and his other hand had slipped into her bra. She bit down hard on her arm and heard a faint laugh behind her. "Sweetheart, you're _terrible_ at being quiet."

"Be less good at fucking me, then," she gasped.

"I don't think I can do that." His voice was laden with mock regret. "I try to be good at things I like, and I _really_ like fucking you." He brushed his lips against her neck. "Be honest - that was the point of that skirt, wasn't it?"

All of the sensations he was giving her were making her mind very cloudy, but she managed to choke out a "yes." She'd made a point of usually wearing skirts to their English lessons for precisely that reason, and she'd been disappointed at the relatively mild response she'd gotten. It was gratifying to know that at least one of them had the desired effect.

He grunted as he came. She whimpered when he pulled out of her, and he sighed. "Yeah, well, that's the downside of being in my fucking office."

"Of fucking in your fucking office?"

She turned around in time to see his grin. "Sit down and spread your legs for me. Can you keep yourself quiet?"

"Probably not."

"Oh well. Do your best." He pulled her skirt up again and slipped two of his fingers into her. "You'd probably be more quiet if you stuffed your underwear in your mouth." She shivered, and he looked up. "Was that a good shiver or a bad one?"

"Good," she managed to say. "But not now."

"No, not now," he agreed, leaning back in.

She closed her eyes. _"Yes,"_ she whimpered, lacing her fingers through his hair. "Yes, Bill, _yes,_ just like that, _please."_ She closed her eyes as she felt herself start to tense. "Please don't stop," she gasped. "I'm so -"

He grunted as her fingers clenched around his hair, but he didn't stop until she let out a moan.

_"Yes,"_ she breathed as he sat back, looking very pleased with himself. "I love you."

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and got to his feet. "I love you, too." He reached down to zip up his jeans, and she let out a giggle.

"Do you want to fuck me again already?"

He hesitated for a moment, and then slid the zipper back down. "We _really_ shouldn't," he said, moving closer so she could pull at his boxers. As soon as her mouth closed around him, he blew out his breath. "Oh, fuck it." He reached over to his bag. "Get on your hands and knees."

As he slid his fingers up the inside of her thigh, she whimpered. "Please, fuck my tight wet cunt."

He groaned and sank into her. "I love you, but you're going to get me fired." Her breath caught in her throat, and he stopped. "Are you okay? Am I hurting you?"

She shook her head. When he didn't start moving again, she added, "I like it when you say those things."

He exhaled. "That you're going to get me fired, or that I love you?"

"You _know_ which one I am talking about," she said.

He trailed his fingers lightly along her side. "I do." He shifted and started to pull out of her. "Come here," he said before she could protest. "I want to kiss you." He pushed his trousers down further and collapsed onto the couch.

She let out a sigh as she guided him back into her. "I love you, too," she said softly.

One arm circled around her back to hold her closer, and his other hand rose to her chest. His lips met hers just as she gasped, and she stopped thinking about anything other than him and everything he was doing to her body.

She buried her face in his shoulder as she came again. "Fuck, I hope you're right that no one's around," he said, kissing her again. "Should I keep going?" She nodded. "Can I get behind you again?" She gasped as he thrust back into her, and his fingers clenched tightly at her hips. "Fuck," he gasped. "I am _never_ going this long without your cunt ever again."

It took him a moment to get off her after they'd finished. "Did you have fun?" she teased as he pulled up his trousers.

"Yes." He was still breathing hard. "But no more fucking 'English lessons' here. You really _are_ going to get me fired." He tossed her her underwear, and she smiled at him.

"I want to stop by the bookstore," she told him cheerfully as he yanked his shirt back over his head.

He made a face. "Seriously?"

She pushed him back down onto the couch and started to brush her lips against his neck. "I do not think either of us is ready to do it again just yet."

"Well, no, but I probably will be soon, and I always like having you naked in my bed." She continued to kiss his neck, and after a minute, he sighed. "Get off me, then, and put your shirt on - if you get me hard again, I'm not standing in the bookstore for an hour while you decide what you want."

She pulled back to brush her lips against his. "Yes, you would."

He made a face. "Of course I would," he admitted. "But please don't make me."

After she'd finished lacing up her boots, she glanced up at him. "Better?"

He made a face. "Not really. If you came here to seduce me -"

"I did."

"- then you've done a good job of it. Next time you strip for me, can you wear those boots?" She smiled brightly at him, and he closed his eyes. "You do realize that you're torturing me right now, right?"

She reached down and started to stroke him through his trousers. "Yes," she said cheerfully.

"If you want me to bend you over my desk again, keep doing that. If you want to go to the bookstore and drive me crazy until we get back to my place, we should get going." She hesitated, and he groaned. _"Fleur."_ She pulled her hand away. For a moment, she thought he might drop to his knees and pull her underwear down again. After a moment, though, he shivered and reached down to grab his bag. "No more fucking English lessons here. Seriously."

Twenty minutes later, she was kneeling down to scan the bottom shelf in the historical fiction section of Flourish and Blotts when he asked from above her, "So - seriously, that _was_ the point of that skirt?"

She yanked a book out and perused the blurb on the back. "Always, yes," she said distractedly. "But you usually did not notice."

He let out a laugh that was slightly too loud for being inside a shop. "Fleur, I always noticed," he said, lowering his voice. She jerked her head up to look at him - he didn't seem to be joking. "I just tried to keep my 'noticing' to myself - I didn't know you were looking for a reaction, and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Like the - the dazzling?" He nodded. "But you did notice?"

"Yeah." He stretched his arms over his head. "Well, I feel like much less of a bad person now."

"Why did you feel like a bad person?"

"Well, I didn't know you _wanted_ me to react - I just knew that I couldn't drag my mind out of the gutter, and I didn't want to be that dick who assumed that you were into me just because I wanted you to be."

"Oh." She straightened up. "Why did you ask to kiss me, then?"

He let out another slightly-too-loud snort of laughter. "Well, first you offered to give me a massage and told me you weren't dating Viktor Krum, then you kissed my cheek five seconds after I'd canceled on you last minute, and then you told me that you'd gotten dressed up for our English lesson and offered to give me another massage. At that point, I was pretty confident that it wasn't just wishful thinking."

She set the book down on the shelf and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Good," she said, rising up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

When she pulled away, he was smiling. "I hate this skirt," he said.

"No, you do not. You love this skirt."

"Not when it's making me want to bury myself in you again and we're in public," he shot back. He glanced around, and when he didn't see anyone nearby, he pushed her against one of the bookshelves and bent down to kiss her again.

She'd just brushed her tongue against his when someone cleared their throat. Bill tore his mouth away from hers and spun around. A balding red haired man was standing there, eyebrows raised, and she immediately felt heat rush to her face.

Next to her, Bill had suddenly developed a coughing fit.

She stepped forward and offered her hand to the man as though he hadn't just found his son with his hand up her skirt. "Hello. My name is Fleur Delacour. You are Bill's father, yes?"

Bill's father took her hand and shook it. "Yes," he said after a moment. "I'm Arthur. It's nice to meet you, Fleur." He glanced past her. "Hello, Bill," he said pointedly. "I thought I heard your voice."

"Hi, Dad." Fleur didn't look back at Bill, but his tone was very sheepish. "Ah - this is Fleur."

"I know. She just introduced herself."

"Right." Bill coughed again. "Fleur is my girlfriend."

"I'd gathered." Bill's father studied them both for a minute. She was just about to say something nonsensical to alleviate the tension when he smiled. "I've heard you have a sister who likes dragons."

Fleur felt herself relax. Talking about her sister was easy. "I do," she said. "Your son Charlie has been very helpful to her. My parents are less happy about it, I think." Her heart had finally started to slow down.

Bill's father chuckled. "I sympathize with your parents. Our son Ron has probably taken years off my life with his antics at school, and I'm sure that I don't know half of what he gets into." Fleur heard Bill let out a soft snort of laughter behind her. His father didn't seem to notice. "Bill has talked about you a great deal. It's nice to finally meet you - I wish I didn't have business to attend to right now. I'll look at my schedule and find a time the three of us are free with Bill tomorrow at dinner." His smile faded a little when he looked past her at his son. "I hope you weren't planning on canceling again," he said pointedly. "Your mother is looking forward to see you."

As soon as the bell over the door had signaled his father's exit, Bill slumped back against the wall and groaned.

"What?" Insecurity was starting to wash over her. "Did your parents not know?"

He shook his head without opening his eyes. Before her heart had time to sink, he said, "I mean, I talk about you a lot - that's how my dad knew about Gabrielle and the dragons. I just didn't say we were dating. I think he'd already guessed it, though."

"Why did you not say you were dating me?"

She didn't even try to mask the hurt in her voice, from the way he picked up his head to study her, it had been even more obvious than she'd intended. "Oh - Fleur, that's not -" He sighed and reached out to take her hand. She let him pull her closer. "Can we talk about it later?"

The expression on his face and the way he was squeezing her hand made her feel like he wasn't just stalling, so she nodded. He clearly felt guilty about it, anyway - he ducked out of the store while she was scanning the bookshelves and returned with a box of her favorite biscuits just as she got up to the register.

When she bent down to retrieve her coin purse from inside her boot, he shoved a hand into his pocket. "I've got it," he said, pulling galleon out of his pocket. "If you don't mind."

"You do not have to."

"Do you mind?" After a moment, she shook her head, and he handed the gold over to the clearly amused woman behind the counter.

"What'd you do?" she asked cheerfully. "You look like you're trying to make up for something."

His face flushed. "He did not tell his parents about me," Fleur told her. The other woman rolled her eyes and handed him his change.

"Thanks," he said. When they'd gotten outside, he interlaced his fingers in hers. "I'm _sorry,"_ he said. "Really. Do you - do you still want to come back with me?"

Fleur squeezed his hand. "We should go, yes. It is getting late."

As soon as he'd closed and locked his front door behind them, he said without preamble, "I didn't tell my parents because my mother has been an anxious wreck every time I mention someone she doesn't know - she's convinced everyone is spying on me. She's asked me at least ten times if I'm sure you're not a spy just because I said I was helping you learn English - when I tell her I'm actually dating you, she's going to be even more fixated on it, especially with you being - you know. You."

"I am not a spy."

He made a face. "Yeah, I know. But when I can't tell her _how_ I know, she's going to get even more freaked out."

"You could tell her some of it."

"Not much - we were really careful when we swore that vow."

That much was true - she knew that much, at least. He and his friend Brendon had been experimenting with some kind of magic to identify spies, and that they'd made enough progress to establish that she wasn't one with confidence. She suspected it had to do with adapting old Gringotts enchantments, but she didn't know for sure - they really _had_ put a lot of thought into the unbreakable vow that they'd sworn.

"And hearing that Bren is part of it wouldn't help matters. She'd tell me to invite him and Addison - that's his wife, you met her a couple weeks ago - to dinner, and he'd end up losing his cool and making a comment about how of _course_ this is necessary, maybe the Order wouldn't have lost so many people in the first war if they'd been smarter." Fleur winced. "Yeah. My mum's brothers were murdered in the last war because they were in the Order, too. It really wouldn't go well." He sighed. "I've got to find a way to tell her now, though - my dad won't, but he'll be after me until I do."

"But you are not embarassed of me."

He jerked back. _"No!_ I'm - fuck, Fleur. I'm crazy about you. You know that. My friends know that. Charlie's been teasing me about it for months. My mum is just…" He sighed. "She's sure that we won't all make it out alive, and it's… yeah." He hesitated for a moment and then added, "And my dad wasn't joking, either. My youngest siblings - and Harry - have also had a habit of… getting into shit, even before last year. It's honestly a minor miracle they're all still alive."

She perked up. "Like what?"

To her surprise, he let himself get sidetracked. "Well, Harry and Ron and their friend Hermione - I dunno if you remember her -"

"I do. Viktor was - very fond of her."

Bill's eyebrows knit together. "Oh. Huh. That's… odd. I thought that was just a Rita Skeeter thing." He shook his head to clear it. "Anyway, the three of them tried to get past a load of enchantments in their first year to get to where Dumbledore hid a philosopher's stone. Harry actually made it through and fought a professor being possessed by You-Know-Who. They all survived - obviously - but the professor was killed, the stone was destroyed, and Ron and Harry both ended up in the Hospital Wing."

She wasn't sure her eyes could have gotten any wider. _"You_ are joking, now."

He shook his head. "I swear, I'm not. My parents had it from Dumbledore himself. Then the next year, my sister got possessed by You-Know-Who. She would have died in the Chamber of Secrets if Harry and Ron hadn't gone down there and rescued her. Ron didn't actually have a working wand at the time, and Harry killed a basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor."

"No!"

"Yep. He got poisoned, too, apparently - Dumbledore's phoenix saved him. And my dad was right about stuff they don't know, too - I'm pretty sure they haven't heard about Ron and Harry ending up in an acromantula nest in the Forbidden Forest halfway through their second year." He was clearly enjoying her reaction now. "Ron told me last summer - he was trying to impress me."

"Did it work?"

Bill grinned. "I told him off for doing something that dangerous, but honestly? Yeah. And there's been plenty of other stuff - it's a little bit of a miracle that they're all still alive. Believe me, I know how it sounds - I had the same reaction."

Her respect for Harry Potter increased significantly. "So that is why he survived, in June," she said slowly. "And could do all of the tasks, in the tournament."

"Definitely didn't hurt."

She spent a moment processing that. "You are - really serious?"

"I'll swear on anything you want."

"And that is why your mother is so - so anxious." He nodded, and she sighed. "I understand, then. But you will tell her now?"

"Yeah. Like I said, I don't have much choice." He reached out to grab her hand and pull her closer. "I love you," he said softly, brushing her hair back from her face. "I really am sorry. Are you mad?"

She considered his question for just long enough to make him start to squirm.

"No," she said after a moment. "But you _will_ tell them?"

"I don't think there's much left for my dad to be told. He found us with my hand up your skirt and your tongue in my mouth. He's definitely going to have a lecture for me. But yes, I will."

Fleur had been a little worried that Bill would come up with an excuse not to tell them after all. His face when he walked in after dinner the next evening, however, made it clear that he'd followed through.

"It could not have been so bad," she told him, dogearring her book and setting it aside.

He collapsed onto the couch next to her. "Would you care to bet on that?" When her fingers touched his hair, he let out a sigh. "That feels nice. Keep doing that, please."

"What happened?"

He sighed. "Well, my mum did freak out," he said. "And my dad waited until she was out of the room to lecture me about how he didn't raise me to grope women in public like that."

"I was liking it, though."

"Yeah, I know. When I pointed that out, he asked how old you were." When she frowned, he added, "Your age, yeah. He was making a point."

"He thinks that I am too - too young for you?"

He stopped to consider that. After a long pause, he said, "Not _really,_ I don't think - he's just not thrilled about it. He's worried I'm taking advantage of you."

"But you are not," she protested. Her heart was starting to race - Bill clearly cared about his family quite a lot, and if they didn't approve of her, she wondered whether he'd think the better of the relationship altogether. Maybe that was why he hadn't told them.

"I know." He didn't sound particularly worried. "I mean, I get it, though - I don't really blame him for worrying a little. He'll feel better once he gets to know you. Speaking of which, would you be up for getting drinks with him on Tuesday?"

"Yes," she said quickly. "Not your mother?"

"She's… busy that night. It's just as well - my dad's a lot more mellow. It's probably better that you get to know him first." He shifted a little. "Can you get my shoulders?" She slid her hand down to his neck, and he let out another sigh. "Thanks. Fleur, I'm really not embarrassed of you, and I'm sorry I made you feel that way. It's just…" He sighed. "I love you, and I'd rather you and my parents not get off on the wrong foot because they're stressed out and paranoid."

"Get off on… what?"

"Oh - sorry. I mean that I don't want things to start off tense just because my mother thinks that literally everyone she doesn't know well is an enemy and I can't tell her how I know that you aren't one without saying that my friend and I decided we'd die rather than give the information up outside of very specific circumstances." He turned his head to study her. "Are you still - hurt? Mad?"

She shook her head and leaned in to kiss him. "Do you want to go to bed?" she asked, reaching down to the button on his trousers.

He grinned as she slid the zipper down. "Absolutely."

* * *

A/N:

1\. This has been sitting unfinished for ages, I'm not thrilled with it but may also be being overcritical of myself because that's what I do.

2\. Don't me re: dogearring books, I'm a librarian and I am pro-dogearring. :P

3\. I had a thing that referenced Sirius but cut it because I think Bill is way more close-mouthed than that, but at some point I want to bring it up because I can't imagine Molly was thrilled about Ron following up "shut up Mom, Sirius Black is totally fine" with "yeahhh I mean he's become our go-to person for information for the past year and also I lied about how I got my owl, this convicted mass murderer I'm totally comfortable around gave it to me. Also, in related news, that pet you gave your kids was an actual mass murderer just hanging out as a rat, so that was kind of dangerous. A+ for effort but also I'm 15 and am involved in All Sorts Of Shit you don't know about. Soooo have fun with that knowledge, sucks that you can't see a therapist about this."

4\. Idk, reviews are always appreciated and stuff?


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